Mina Hobart belonged in a parlor, sipping tea with her lady friends and wearing taffeta or lace, not in the middle of the godforsaken wilderness, by God. And, she surely didn’t belong on the seat of a buckboard trying to handle two pair of ornery cattle. As he watched her pull back on the reins and the team continue on as if she hadn’t, he swore if her good-for-nothing husband weren’t dead already, he’d kill him. He had no business bringing a citified young woman on such an arduous trip.She was a beauty, he’d give her that, particularly the mass of glossy red hair atop her head that had been kissed by long days spent in the sun and now glimmered with streaks of gold. Her once creamy complexion had warmed to a golden tan, which brought her eyes to an even lighter and more striking shade of blue. She’d also developed a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her smile transformed her features from beautiful to breathtaking, although he hadn’t seen it often, usually reserved for the children of the train and the ever helpful Ben Jacobs.
